. . .
A few hours ago.
Alexandre Monet
I knocked on Dahlia's father's office door. "Dahlia."
The door opened. Dahlia's dad stood there. I looked in. She wasn't there.
"Where is she?" I asked. It was lunchtime and Andros was bitching about food getting cold. I knew for a fact he hadn't even started making anything, he just wanted her back at the ship where she was completely safe.
He just stared at me. His eyes were dead. His eyes had been dead since his wife was taken. "She left."
I raised my eyebrows. "You have one second to give me a better answer."
"Your brother took her."
How the fuck did he know?
I called Lucian, keeping my eyes on him. "You took Dahlia?" I asked as he attended the call. "Why the fuck would you do that?"
"What are you talking about? I am on the ship." he paused. "Did you lose her?"
I hung up and took out my gun, the weight familiar in my hand. Dahlia's dad looked at my gun, a hint of panic in his eyes.
"Where is she?" I asked.
"Your brother took her."
"He fucking didn't."
"He did," he said.
I stilled.
My brother took her.
Brother.
I called my mom.
"Where is he?" I asked, my heart beating faster.
"Who?"
"Where the fuck is Elliot, mom?"
"Elliot is dead, hon-"
"Where the fuck is he?"
"I don't know what you're talking about."
I hung up. She wasn't going to talk.
. . .
Andros Kozlov.
I grabbed his collar, slamming him against the wall. "Where the fuck is she?"
"Get your hands away from me, boy," Andre said. "Is this how you repay me?"
I slammed my fist against his jaw, blood spewing out of his mouth. "Where is the fuck is she, Andre?"
"He..." He tried to get away. He was strong, but he was old. "I don't know."
I slammed his head against the table. He had been at the ship when Alexandre called to tell us what happened. He had tried to get away. But we grabbed him before he would.
Hedeon had left to go to the Monet Manor. Alexandre was going to meet him there and deal with the other two.
Andre looked at Lucian who was standing stiffly near the door, not looking at him.
"You're going to let him do this?" He snapped at him. Lucian's jaw clenched but he didn't look our way.
I grabbed Andre's hair and smacked his head against the table again. I was tempted to slam it hard enough to break his skull, but that would come later.
"Tell us," Lucian said. "Just fucking tell us."
Andre looked at me. "We should have never taken you and your brother in."
I rolled my eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Where the fuck is she? Where did he take her? You have one fucking second to answer or I will burn that fucking manor to the ground with your brothers and wife in it."
Lucian's hands clenched into a fist, but he didn't protest.
"My sons would never let you do that."
"I will kill you," Lucian said, slowly, finally looking at us. "I will kill you for this. As soon as we find her."
Fear, finally, flashed in Andre's eyes. "You'd kill your father for her?"
"I'd burn my whole fucking family to the ground. So, Dad-" he walked closer, taking out his knife. "Where is Dahlia? Where did he take her?"
Andre wiped the blood away from his face. "I don't know."
Lucian stabbed his shoulder, leaving the knife there. Andre screamed, it mixed with the cracking thunder outside. I took a few steps back.
I called Hedeon. "Are they saying anything?"
"No," Hedeon answered. "We searched the manor, but we didn't find her. But...the guest house. That was where Elliot had been keeping Dahlia's mother and Evan. There is no one there now."
"Get answers out of them."
"They aren't going to give up their golden child."
"Well, then they'll fucking die for him."
When Alexandre and Lucian got kidnapped, Elliot was all they were left with. He was the perfect child, untouched by the darkness that resided in Lucian and Alexandre.
Elliot had been fucking insane. He had carved the wounds that the Monet's had to make himself look like them. He got the same fucking tattoos. He wanted to be part of the fucking group like we had taken a fucking vacation together.
And now he had her. My Dahlia.
My phone buzzed.
I did for her what you couldn't do.
. . .
Dahlia
I could smell the blood when I woke up. Emilia was beside me, her eyes blankly looking at the wall. The house was soundless. The effect of whatever he had given me was wearing off.
I got out of the bed, standing on my shaking legs. The sky raged outside. My mind was black. My heart was still. I didn't know what I was feeling, and I feared figuring it out.
I covered her with a blanket and shut her eyes. I could almost pretend she was sleeping.
She was, I insisted. She was sleeping. She would wake up at any moment.
I walked out of the room. I went to mine. My mom and dad were still up there. The fairy lights flickering. They were dead.
I sat down on the ground. I was exhausted. I had to get out of here. I was exhausted. Someone would come to save me. I was exhausted. I was exhausted.
My dress was sticking to my body, and the blood dried. I could faintly smell the apple shampoo Emilia used. Alexandre's necklace wasn't around my neck. My hair was sticking to my face. I wanted to rip it out. I wanted to get this dress off me. I wanted to stop looking at my dead parents. I wanted to forget my sister, dead in her bed, with that poster on her wall.
I had secretly hated them for so long. I had loved them for so long. Every part of me hurt.
I heard footsteps.
I looked up at Alexandre or Lucian or Elliot. Who was he? I felt so frustrated. Tears spilt out of my eyes. I hoped it was Alexandre or Lucian.
"Baby." He got down, sitting beside me.
My hands trembled. "Please-" my voice broke. "Who are you?"
"I am whoever you want me to be."
I pushed myself into his arms. "Lucian," I whispered. "Alexandre."
He pulled me deeper into his arms. "Baby."
I cried harder. "You're not them."
"It doesn't matter, does it? Look at me."
He looked down at me. He was Lucian. He was Alexandre. He was the man I loved. The men I adored.
I cupped his face. "Who are you?" I asked miserably. My head hurt so much.
He kissed me. "I'm whoever you want me to be," he repeated.
I sniffled. "Take me away from here, please."
"Of course, baby."
He picked me up. I closed my eyes. I didn't want to think. He was Lucian. He was Alexandre. It was one of them. I was safe with them. I didn't want to think. I wrapped my arms around him. My head felt heavy again. He had drugged me again. I didn't care.
I wanted the pain to be away. The drugs helped.
"Let's go far away," he whispered. "I'll keep you safe."
. . .